With Bated Breath
by Darkest Desire
Summary: When Harry is forced by Snape to drink a messed up potion, the results are a startling reminder of how nothing can ever be normal when involving the-boy-who-lived. creature!Harry with eventual Slash


Summary: When Harry is forced by Snape to drink a messed up potion, the results are a startling reminder of how nothing can ever be normal when involving Harry. creature!Harry with eventual Slash

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CHAPTER ONE: NEVER NORMAL

"Oww!" Harry exclaimed as the small knife he had been using to chop up his eye of newt slipped and sliced his finger. Hastily putting pressure on the cut, he desperately hoped that Snape hadn't noticed his slip up. He really couldn't afford to lose anymore points in potions today after having arrived late to class.

"Are you okay?" Neville, his potions partner for the day, questioned with concern, having noticed the fact that Harry had cut his finger.

Giving Neville a small smile, Harry quickly reassured his dorm mate that he was fine. "Don't worry about it, Nev. Let's just finish the potion before Snape gets on our tails about it," Harry suggested, knowing that Neville was just as eager as he was to keep off of Snape's bad side.

Nodding reluctantly, Neville agreed with Harry's proposal, absently grabbing the eye of newt Harry had been chopping and finishing cutting it up before adding it into the bubbling blue concoction. The potion hissed and released a jet of steam as the last ingredient was added and turned a violent purple hue. Gazing intently at the mixture, Neville studied it for a moment, glancing back and forth between it and the directions in the book before turning toward Harry, who was nursing his injured finger.

"I think we messed it up somehow," Neville declared glumly, glancing once more at the text for support of his analysis. "It says it's supposed to be a light lilac color, not a bright purple," he informed Harry.

Looking at the book for conformation and then at the potion they had brewed, Harry quickly concluded that Neville was right. He let out a dejected sigh as he imagined the berating they were sure to receive from Snape. "Let's just clean up. The potion's no good anyway, so we might as well start getting ready to leave," Harry announced, staring down at yet another failed potion.

"I was sure we were doing it exactly as the directions said," he heard Neville mumble half to himself, reading through the directions for the Incognito potion for the tenth time.

Just as Harry was about to attempt to console the boy and assure him that the ruined potion wasn't his fault and that it could have been any number of details that they had messed up on, he felt a presence behind him. It was the unmistakable looming of Professor Snape hovering behind them like a vulture. Harry barely contained a frustrated sigh at the ill timing.

"I see you have wasted a number of perfectly good potions ingredients," the professor commented snidely, eying their concoction with distaste. "Not that I expected any differently from you two," he continued in a derogatory manner, "especially considering the delicate nature of the Incognito potion. But, no matter, your potion need not go to waste. In fact, I dare say you'll make a good example for all the other students who believe they can goof off in my class without consequence." Here he paused, glaring pointedly at the Gryffindor side of the room. Harry gulped nervously, unsure what precisely his professor had in mind. "Grab a beaker and a ladle," Snape finished, turning to check on the other students' potions.

Harry gaped, knowing that a beaker and ladle were only necessary when testing potions. Surely Snape wouldn't actually make them test their obviously incorrect potion. "Sir, we didn't brew it right…You can't seriously mean to have us test it…" Harry trailed off, wanting to say more, but not knowing what more to say. That and the fact that Snape had spun on the heel of his boot and was now glaring daggers at him silenced him.

"Mr. Potter, that is precisely what I mean to have you do. And should you speak back to me again, you will lose your house another ten points today. Now gather your sample and bring it to the front of the classroom. You may decide between yourselves which of you will be brave enough to sample your ill conceived potion," Snape snapped sharply, silencing any protest Harry might have uttered as he gave one last scathing look before turning away from them once more.

Recovering quickly, Harry made up his mind. "I'll take the potion," he informed Neville, leaving no room for negotiation.

Neville uttered a sound of protest as he gaped at Harry as if he were mad. "Harry, you can't! We don't know what the potion will do; it could be dangerous. I'm sure if we go to Dumbledore and tell him what happened he won't—" Neville was abruptly cut off as Harry interrupted him.

"No, Nev. I'm sure Snape wouldn't allow me to drink anything that was truly dangerous. I'll be fine. Besides, I don't want to lose us any more house points," Harry reasoned, quelling Neville's protests. Before Neville could say anything more, Harry carefully spooned a portion of the potion into a beaker and carried it to the front of the room, standing resolutely before the class as Snape looked on with narrowed eyes.

"Mr. Potter here is to show you what happens when you fail to follow directions," Snape announced to the classroom, ignoring the horrified gasps uttered by the Gryffindors and the happy smirks gracing the Slytherins' faces. "Go ahead, Mr. Potter, drink up; we're all waiting."

Glaring at the potion held in his hand, Harry steeled himself before resolutely downing the potion in one large gulp. It tasted bloody awful, though that was to be expected. At first he didn't feel anything, and he had to wonder at that. The whole class seemed to be holding its breath in anticipation, meaning that they hadn't noticed anything occurring yet either. Harry wasn't sure whether he should take this as a good or bad sign.

Whispers broke out as a minute passed without any effect taking place. "Why isn't it doing anything?" he heard someone ask rhetorically. He had to wonder the same thing himself.

Just as he was about to call it quits and take his seat again, he felt something stir within him. His stomach felt odd. It felt like it was filled with a freezing fire, not exactly painful, but unpleasant all the same. Clutching his stomach uncertainly, he glanced down at it, wondering what was going on. He could only hope that he had been right in his assumption that Snape wouldn't allow him to consume anything potentially harmful.

Glancing over at the professor, he took note of the look of perplexed concentration. He took that as a bad sign. Snape had no idea what was happening either. This situation was quickly turning very bad. And, even worse, Harry was beginning to feel lightheaded and achy, as if all of his muscles had been overworked and were now sore. Nausea soon began to overtake him as well and he clutched his stomach tighter.

"I don't feel very good," he announced warily, barely getting the words out before a bout of extreme dizziness overtook him and he began to blackout. Hastily plopping down onto the hard stone floor, he curled up into the fetal position, resting his head on his knees and curling his arms around his legs. "I think I need to see Madam Pomfrey," he informed whoever would listen, beginning to become truly worried.

He heard a flurry of motion around him, but couldn't be bothered to lift his head and look to see what was going on. At this point, he didn't care so long as they got him to the hospital wing or did something to make him better. His only consolation at the moment was the thought of Snape being in big trouble for this stunt. It did little to put his mind at ease, though, as he was feeling way too shitty to really be appeased by the thought.

He felt himself being lifted all of a sudden and placed onto a gurney by who he could only assume was Professor Snape. Feeling the gurney being floated along on route to, he hoped, the hospital wing and watching the ceiling pass by in a surreal rush only made him feel more nauseous. He barely managed to keep from throwing up as he closed his eyes against the blurry images.

He could hear people talking around him, concerned voices attempting to question whether he was alright and telling him that he was being taken to the hospital wing. They all sounded so far away, though, or as if they were trying to reach him through an earful of cotton.

He drifted out of consciousness for what seemed at least an hour, though must have only been a few minutes, judging by the fact that he was just being placed onto a hospital bed when he came to. He dared to open his eyes now that the motion had stopped, and spotted Madam Pomfrey's concerned, though professional face hovering over him as the woman examined him. He could see her lips moving, though he couldn't hear any words. He wondered if she was talking to him or someone else.

He closed his eyes once again for a brief moment, opening them again as he felt something being pressed insistently against his lips. A hand slid under his head and lifted it up as a potion was forced down his throat. He almost gagged, but managed to get it down well enough. Hopefully the fact that Madam Pomfrey was shoving potions down his throat meant that she knew what was wrong with him and was able to fix it.

He felt the unmistakable flow of magic surrounding him and hazily noted that Madam Pomfrey must have cast some sort of healing spell on him. He could only hope that her efforts would begin to take effect soon.

Sure enough, his dazedness began to dissipate and the nausea slowly receded over the next few minutes. In fact, he almost felt perfectly normal again, albeit a bit tired and weak. Opening his eyes and taking in the familiar surroundings of the hospital wing now that his vision wasn't spinning, Harry's eyes landed on Madam Pomfrey bustling in through the curtains.

Pushing himself into a sitting position, he took the potion that Madam Pomfrey handed him without hesitation. Sipping it down with a grimace at the taste, he handed the empty vial back to the nurse. "How are you feeling, dear?" she questioned with concern, hastily checking him over.

"Much better, thank you," Harry answered, noting that his voice sounded a tad off. He attributed it to all of the potions he had taken in such a short time.

Rubbing at his eyes, Harry confusedly realized that he didn't have his glasses on. Yet, he could see perfectly fine. How could that be? Searching once more for the glasses that should be on his face, he was disturbed to find that they truly weren't there. And he didn't seem to need them. Turning toward Madam Pomfrey, he gave the nurse a questioning look. "Why don't I need my glasses to see?" he asked, wondering if she had used some sort of potion or spell that might have had this effect.

The nurse gave him a worried look, doing nothing to quiet Harry's unease. "Do you know what potion you drank, Harry?" Pomfrey questioned gently, looking intently into her ward's green eyes.

Harry shook his head in the negative, wondering whether it had been Neville and his messed up potion that had corrected his vision. He waited patiently for Madam Pomfrey to continue explaining.

"Well, you see, when the Incognito potion is mixed with blood magic, in other words the blood of some sort of magical being, in this case a wizard, then it becomes a permanent disguise of sorts," Pomfrey tried to ease Harry's mind into the notion.

Harry uncertainly digested this information. Did this mean that he would look…however he now looked…_forever_? The idea was mind boggling and something that he found hard pressed to accept. He couldn't really look that different, though, could he? He suddenly found himself longing for a mirror, though he wasn't sure he really wanted to see what it would reveal.

Madam Pomfrey seemed to sense his desire, hesitantly withdrawing a hand mirror from the pocket of an apron like skirt that she wore wrapped around her outfit. Harry took it with shaking hands, slowly raising it until he could view himself in its reflective surface. He froze as he saw a face that he didn't recognize. It was his face…only it _wasn't_.

Raising his left hand, which wasn't holding the mirror, he traced the curve of his jaw before continuing up to run his fingers over a strong cheekbone and then the curve of a thin, well shaped nose. His eyes were the same avada kedavra green, though he no longer needed his customary glasses, and his hair was the same rich black color, though it now lay in a more manageable manner against his head rather than sticking up at odd angles. He didn't look too terribly different, although his overall features seemed to be more…feminine. That was the only word he could think of to describe it.

He continued to gaze dazedly at his new reflection before the surreal image began to bother him. He handed the mirror back to Madam Pomfrey with a quiet, "Thank you." The nurse acknowledged his words with a nod, allowing Harry a moment to adjust to this new image of himself.

"I'm afraid there's more to it than that, Harry," Pomfrey spoke up with seeming regret. Harry merely gazed at her with confusion, wondering what more could possibly have changed. "You see, the Incognito potion is very subjective and varies between users. It decides how best to disguise each individual user. Apparently, the potion chose to disguise you as a veela. Since the potion is permanent…" Madam Pomfrey trialed off, letting the information sink in.

"You mean…I'm a…_veela_ now?" Harry questioned incredulously, unable to believe his horrible luck. Not that there was anything wrong with being a veela, but…Why couldn't he just be normal for once in his life?

TO BE CONTINUED…

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yes, I've started yet another fic. I just can't seem to help myself. Anyway, I hope you like it so far. I've always loved veela!Harry fics and have wanted to write one for some time, but haven't gotten around to it until now. Let me know what you think and who you think Harry should be paired with (I'll consider any slash pairing, though I do have a few that I'm considering more than others).


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